Caught up in the Moment
by violence.in.silence
Summary: "Lyrics like that and a voice like yours don't mix. You're voice is too good to be wasted on music like that." And just like that, all hell breaks loose as Katniss has to choose between her best friend and a very familiar stranger whom she owes to write some music for her. They were right when they said this industry was tough.
1. Chapter 1-Try

**Hi there! :)**

**This isn't my first fanfiction or anything, but I like to get to know my readers before anything, but this will be my first **_**ever **_**Hunger Games fic, so please be nice :D Oh, there's this story in the Hunger Games archive called 'In a Voice that Came from You and Me' by the very talented **_**passionately-curious**_**, which is kinda where I got my inspiration from. Don't worry, I'm not scamming the story and I absolutely hate plagiarism, but this is about Katniss becoming a star and such, but everything else should come from me. I love reviews, I do accept constructive criticism, but please note that 'this chapter was boring' is **_**not **_**constructive criticism and I hate getting feedback like that. Please, at least, tell me how to improve. And on that note, I hope you enjoy this non-canon, OOC story ;)**

_**Chapter 1—Try **_

KATNISS

My eyes slit open and I'm immediately blinded by the sunshine coming through the windows. I groan into my pillow and pull the covers over my head, as if I can block out the light. I can't.

My head pounds with the power of a jackhammer, my vision is blurry and my tongue tastes bitter and acidic. After a few moments of wishing away the bright lights with no success, I grudgingly get up and stumble to the curtains. I swipe them together and fall back onto my bed. Then I curl up under the sheets and close my eyes. Hangovers suck.

I think I blame Haymitch for bringing me partying with the team last night. I start to having creeping suspicions that _maybe _I should've listened to Effie and waited till the weekend to go out. But then again, it's _Effie. _Any sort of fun that includes alcohol makes her nose scrunch up and face screw in disgust. You'd think that I'd find it endearing after a while. I don't.

_I'm just a moment, so don't let me pass you by. They can speak our names in a dead language, coz you and I, we're alive. _

I groan again and slip my hand out into the cold air. Who the hell would call me this early in the morning? Let alone a day after getting drunk like hell. My fingers brush my bedside table and I rack my hand recklessly through any objects on it. The sound of things clattering to the floor makes me wince and grit my teeth, it sounds like a dozen nuclear explosions. My head pounds even more drastically and I really start to wonder whether I should've listened to Effie. But then even thinking starts to put some strain on my head, so I just focus my attention to finding my damn phone. Finally, my fingers skim across my buzzing phone and I make a grab for it. I swipe it from the table and then bring it under the covers and squint against the light. I swear to god, if it's Effie, or Haymitch, or even Finnick, I don't think I'll be able to control myself from murder.

_Prim. _It reads. It's natural for a light smile to tug on my lips. There's a small picture of her that I took a few months back, hair braided, eyes wide and looking just like Prim would. I close my eyes after tapping the screen and pull the phone to the side of my face.

"Hey, Katniss!" My sister screeches and I pull the phone away from my ear. I wince again and take a deep breath to try and calm my raging head.

"Hey, Prim." I croak out. My voice sounds rough and course and it takes all my effort to just sound _somewhat _normal. Even though we're miles apart, I still have to be a good role model for Prim. But she always catches on quick.  
"You have a hangover don't you?" She giggles at my silence. "I can call later if you want."  
"No, no, no! It's ok. Talk to me." I quickly ram into one sentence. I imagine Prim curled up on the sofa with her phone in hand, a cup of coffee by her side and TV blaring some documentary about dolphins. That seems just about right.

Prim's back at home, in our small town. I don't doubt that Sae's keeping a good eye on her, but I can't help but to worry. I mean, after our parents…after _that_ happened, I became a mother to her, along with being her sister. I make her call me almost everyday just to check up on her, yet, Prim always has this way of making it seem like she's always checking up on me.

"…Okay then." She hesitates before launching into this full explanation of what's happening lately. She tells me about her boyfriend, Rory, who turns out to be my best friend's little brother. Speaking of which, I wonder about how Gale's doing. We talk online as much as Prim and I do, but it's not the same as being around someone. There's a strong stirring in my stomach and I realize that I'm homesick. I miss Prim and that damn cat that always hangs around her, I miss tucking her shirts back so they don't hang out. I miss Gale, I miss shooting arrows with him at competitions and teasing each other about random things. I miss home.

"Rory is just so—Katniss?" Prim's voice pulls me back to reality.  
"Yeah?" I quickly answer, as if I'd been listening the whole time. If you know enough about me, you'd know that I'm a terrible liar…and Prim knows me well enough.  
"It's alright, Katniss. I'll call you later." Prim giggles again. Sad to say, this isn't the first time she's called while I'm in a 'hangover state'. I'm setting a bad example, I know it, but Prim's sixteen now. Weirdly, I trust her enough to make her own decisions. She needs to experience things for herself, and I know that I can't choke her with a leash. But I swear, if Rory even thinks about—

"Love you, Katniss." Prim drawls teasingly.  
"Love you too." I respond. Then I let my hand drop lazily onto the bed, bouncing a little at the impact.

I kind of miss my own bed as well. It isn't anything special, but you get used to these sort of mundane things. Now, I crash in different hotel rooms, getting used to the generic white sheets and pillows. Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I was still back home. It's a little selfish of me, I know it—there are a million girls out there who probably want to be in my shoes, but the fact is that I really miss everything I left behind. _Don't be such a brat. Appreciate what you have. _A voice whispers in the back of my mind. I know it's right.

Then there's a knock at my door. Not a soft tap, but a violent rapping that I know can only belong to one person.

"Get up, sweetheart. We've got a lot of work to do." Haymitch growls at the other side of the door. I groan into my pillow again, wishing everyone and _everything _could just go away for a couple of hours.  
"It's going to be a big, big, big day!" A voice chimes. Urgh, _Effie. _If there's one _thing_…or one person—though I'm beginning to doubt that she's actually human—that I really hate dealing with, it's her. See, Haymitch and I get along fine, we both just _get _each other, and because of that, we respect what the other does and says. Where as _Effie_…let's just say things aren't smooth at all.

I hear the door creaking open and the wood sliding over the carpet in one composed sound. Why the hell must they have the other card into this room?

"This room is an absolute sty! What happened here? A tornado?" Effie shrieks disapprovingly. I roll my eyes and groan. Really? This early in the morning?

My hand flies to the pillow next to me, and I fling it in the general direction of the door. I hear a satisfying squeak from Effie, and I dig my head further into my pillow.

"Alright, sweetheart. You've got one hour. Do whatever you want, but be up and fresh by the end of it." I make a small growl-like sound to respond to Haymitch.  
"Haymitch! This is appalling! She practically abused us, did you see that? Why can't I get someone who actually has some manners, those high up artists? Instead I get—"  
"Now, now, Effie. Just let the girl sleep for a bit. She'll be up in no time." Haymitch doesn't sound very convincing, but I'm so glad that he interrupted her while he did. I'm getting so sick of disappointing people, and it's not my fault that I'm the way I am.  
"But, _Hay-mitch._" Effie begins to throw a hissy fit, and I'm so glad that I'm wrapped under these sheets, _away _from her and her attitude. Poor Haymitch. I really wouldn't want to be in his position at all.  
"It was me who came up with the idea to go drinking last night remember? Not her." Haymitch completely blows me away. He's taking a bullet for me. I guess he understands what I've been through, and that life has been hard on me. And you know why he understands this? Because life hasn't been that amazing to him either. I'm grateful to him. I remind myself that I should buy him a bottle of expensive wine when I get up. Drinking might not be good for you, but I know how much the pain hurts. And if drinking helps him take away that pain, then I'm in no position to judge. I know I've done worse…

Besides the large drums in my head, there's only silence. This is a very bad sign because it means that Effie is just about to explo—  
"It _is _your fault isn't it?! It's your entire fault, always letting her get what she wants and letting her off the hook when she screws up! You're too soft on her!" Effie continues and I can practically feel Haymitch's irritation right now. Then I hear the soft click of the door and Effie's muffled voice.

Well, here goes another normal day.

At the studio, things don't get any better. Things are everywhere, people pushing past each other screaming for some assistance that they don't exactly have. Okay, it's not _really _that bad, but the studio has seen it's better days.

"There she is. It's about time, Ms. Everdeen." It's Effie again, and I roll my eyes before grudgingly turning around to face her. "Don't give me that attitude. You know that you're behavior this morning was unacceptable. Imagine if that was the attitude you used on a live interview." She harrumphs before shaking her head, "All our hard work would go down the drain." The way she slips in 'our' starts to really push me over the edge. It wasn't 'our' hard work; it was 'my' hard work. Was Effie on the streets with a cheap guitar and freezing hands everyday? Was she the one who got ignored on the streets with no money to spare? I don't think so. Just as I'm about to give Effie a piece of my mind, someone interrupts me.

"Well there's our little star!" Haymitch brings a beefy arm around my shoulder. The gesture seems friendly, but he and I both know that he's restraining me from any violent behavior—and doing something that I will eventually regret.

Effie brushes past me and I exhale a long breath. "Thanks." I mumble to Haymitch. He takes his arm off and crosses both of them on his chest.  
"Don't think I'll always be there to cover for you, Katniss. You gotta learn to control that pistol-temper of yours." He tells me. It's like he's scolding me, but looking at his eyes…it's almost like he's giving me a life lesson.  
"I know." I tell him sternly, then I dart my eyes around before whispering, "I left a bottle of wine in your room. Thanks for holding Effie back." Haymitch begins to guffaw very loudly. Then he gives me a sly grin, "Thanks, sweetheart. I know she can be a hurricane on a destruction path." He shakes his head with a small smile. I nod at him before I hear Effie calling my name…again.

"What?" I shout to her. She gives me a glare for being 'so impossibly rude' and then waves me over. I turn back to Haymitch, roll my eyes while he chuckles knowingly, and then walk to her obediently.

"Come read over these lyrics for us." I glance to her side and find my songwriter. Honestly, I don't like him very much. His lyrics are annoying and lack feeling, and he has this laid-back attitude that frustrates me to no end.

I take the sheet of paper from Effie and ignore the music notes for now. I skim to the near middle of the sheet to read what the lyrics are.

_You're a shooting star I see,  
A vision of ecstasy,  
When you hold me, I'm alive,  
We're like diamonds in the sky__._

I scowl as I read through this. There is no way I'm singing this. It has no emotion, it's something that a child could write—there is no way I'm singing this! I don't even bother to even take a glance at the musical notes before I shove the paper back into Effie's hands. She gives me a slight frown, but she doesn't scold me like I expect her to.

"No. I'm not singing that." I shake my head. Effie nods at my decision, which is the least to say, absolutely shocking.

"Sorry, Cato, you've got talent but your lyrics aren't exactly Katniss' style." Effie professionally deals with the situation. Sometimes, her persistent need to be polite can come in handy. She's so poised and elegant, even when she's telling someone that they're sacked and to get out. Well, it can be inferred at least.

"You know what? Screw this and screw you!" Cato looks pointedly at me when he starts to shout, "You think you're so great and mighty with the small power that you actually have, and you're such a brat! You don't deserve my music anyway." He swears at the end before getting his backpack and leaving. The good news is that he left. His words don't even leave a mark on me at all. I deal with this stuff all the time, people telling what to do, how to act, and even then, it's not good enough. This causes even more complaints and people screaming at me when I don't think I've done anything wrong. You learn to tune out the complaints before any real damage is done. At least, that's what I convince myself anyway.

"Are you okay, dear?" Effie asks me softly. I nod curtly before looking at her in the eyes.  
"We seriously need to get a new songwriter, and fast." I tell her. She gives me a small smile and nods.  
"I know. We were going to fire Cato anyway. Lyrics like that and a voice like yours don't mix. You're voice is too good to be wasted on music like that." My eyes widen in shock. In the time that I've known Effie, she's never given me a compliment, _ever. _She's never wasted time on compliments when she can call me rude and a total wreck.  
"Thank you." I say softly to her. She gives me a secretive smile in return.  
"Because of this," she changes subject quickly, "we've already sent out applications to some songwriters around this area. They'll come next week, and we'll interview them."  
"When was I going to know about this?" I hiss in confusion. How can Effie go from being sweet to haughty in such a short amount of time? Someone should've told me about such major decision as soon as it had been made! If Haymitch knows anything about this, he's going to get an earful from me.  
"When Cato was gone." She replies smoothly. I shake my head and then turn around to walk away.

PEETA

"C'mon, Peeta! This will be a perfect chance to get you out there!"  
"That's what you said last time."  
"But I really mean it this time." Delly urges. I sigh sharply before settling myself down into the big sofa in her office. I know she's my agent and everything, but does she really have to nag like a mother would?  
"But, Peet, you're so talented and this chick has a voice that will totally blow you're mind away." _I know. _I want to tell her. I _know _her voice will blow my mind away, I've heard it before. But it's not like I can tell Delly that.

"So it's not like you're beautiful lyrics will be wasted or anything." Delly adds quickly. She's trying to lure me like an anglerfish, bring me into the light to get eaten up. Not by her, of course, but by the big guys, the sharks in the music industry. And I know that's what I secretly want, but I've been let down enough to know not to jump into things recklessly now. Being a songwriter isn't easy, being rejected by record companies one at a time, _every time _makes things worse. I don't think I can get declined another time.  
"I don't know, Delly. I'm sick of fighting." I stare through her glass window into the city.

Then Delly does something that shocks me to my very core. She slaps me.  
"What the hell has gotten into you, Peeta? Don't you dare tell me that you've given up. I swear if it's your mother again, I'll gladly go to her house and slap some sense into her." Delly gives me this fierce and determined look that makes me believe every word she's saying.

I cradle my cheek with my hand. For such a small girl, she sure packs a punch. My cheek stings a little, but it's not something that I can't handle. I've been through worse. _A lot worse._

I take a deep breath and clear my mind, wiping the slate clean and just focusing on everything I've been fighting for, for the past year. I focus on Delly and how much she's been through just to help me. I can't let her down. "I won't give up, Delly. I wouldn't give up after all the hard work you've struggled through for me. You haven't given up on me all this time, so I won't give up on myself." I tell her truthfully. Her face melts into it's normal sweet expression and she gives me a quick hug. I really wonder if she's my agent sometimes—the fact that she _is _my agent, and that we _do _work together occasionally slips away and I feel like she's more of my best friend than anything else.

Her face softens even more when she glances at my cheek when my hand moves away. "I'm sorry for slapping you." She says quickly. I shake my head in response.  
"No, I needed it." Though that's true, what I really need, is to wake up. Get out of this depressing abyss that I've fallen into and to become who I know I can be. I can reach my full potential; I can be the cheerful Peeta Mellark that people know me for.

"You can do it, Peeta! And you don't have to do it alone, I promise. I'll be right here with you." Delly pumps her fist into the air dramatically. I think she's been watching way too much of those Japanese Cartoons…what are they called again? Anime. Yeah, that's the one.

I get off of the sofa and move to Delly's laptop. I can feel her following me quietly, as if not to disturb my concentration. I place my palms on the edge of her desk and lean on the table.

I stare at the laptop, at the picture plastered all over the screen. _Her_ face hasn't changed one bit. She still has that scowl that's mesmerizing at the same time that it's lethal. She gave me that same scowl when I walked past her. I remember the memory like it was yesterday, when in truth, it was probably a bit less than a year ago.

_I felt free. For the first time in my life, it was like these invisible chains had come off and I could just _move. _I suppose it's because mother's back at home, and I had no one to scold me and make my life miserable. Though I do feel guilty for leaving my brothers with her. I wonder if they're fairing all right. _

_My ears pick up on a guitar strum. Then the most amazing voice follows. The only thing in my head is screaming for me to just listen, to find the source of such amazing music. _

_I continue down the street gingerly, almost afraid to find what is capable of singing like that and playing like the way they are. Then I see her. With her chocolate colored hair braided down her front and her gray eyes shielded from the world—they were dull and her face was angry, even though the song she was singing was meant to be cheerful. I know that I've seen her in this neighborhood before. _

_People passed by her easily, ignoring her as if she was 'just another beggar on the street'. She was something more though. She was worth a lot more. _

_I stopped in my tracks and just watched her, _listened_ to her. Her nimble fingers picked at the guitar with ease, and her left had glided across the frets without a second thought. _

_But her body was skinny, scarily so. Her arms were bordering on bones and her frame was dangerously thin. Was she anorexic? No, something told me otherwise. A strong feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that I should be worried about her. _

_I took a glance at the small hat by her feet. _Empty.

_I was disgusted that no one even bothered to share a dime or quarter. She had so much talent yet no one was giving her a second glance. _

_I found my wallet at the back of my jeans and pulled it out. I stuffed my fingers into the slit of the wallet and pull out a note. All coherent thoughts flew away from my head and I let the money fall into her hat. Her eyes pulled up to mine in surprise. She continued playing her guitar but she looked at me a little angrily. Her expression was not exactly angry, but more like suspicious. She nodded at me in thanks before singing again. _

_I give one last look to the hat at her feet and realize I accidently gave her a fifty-dollar note. _Crap. _It's too late to take it back. So instead, I walk away with thoughts like 'you're seriously talented' and 'you're amazing' bouncing around my head, but never quite making it to my lips. I may have lost fifty-dollars, but something told me that she needed it more than I did at the moment._

I reel back to present time, pushing my flashback aside. I give the picture one last look before looking straight at Delly.

"I'll do it."

She squeals in delight and wraps her arms around me in excitement. I laugh at her reaction and she moves away from me and starts to jump around her office. I can't hold back the laughter from my stomach. She's so childish. 

"Oh my gosh! I have to call them and I have to tell them! Oh god, what if it's too late?" She drones on and sputters uncontrollably. I make a move to tell her to calm down but she's shooing me out of her office before I can do anything.

"Out, out! I have a lot of work to do." Delly rambles before shutting the door in my face. I chuckle and shake my head. Well that's Delly for you.

**Katniss' ringtone is '**_**Outlines'**_** by my favorite band All Time Low. All you ATL fans out there, you guys are awesome ;) The song that Katniss didn't like that Cato wrote was Rihanna's '**_**Diamonds'**_**. I don't mean any offence when Katniss trashed it, but I'm not a big fan of radio pop. Neither is Katniss by the looks of things ;) Hahaha! Hope to hear from you soon and that you'll stick with this story :)**


	2. Chapter 2-Reunion

_**Chapter 2—Reunions **_

KATNISS

Once I finally get some time to myself, _away _from Effie—for once, I begin to ponder about the new songwriter. Though I get to choose who it is, I'm still frustrated that Effie didn't tell me about firing Cato earlier. Heck, I think I would've enjoyed doing it myself.

The one problem that's really nagging me is _time_. Would we have enough time to get fifteen songs together for the album? I mean, this album is my make or break album. If it sells, then I'll surely be a hit, and/or at least attract enough publicity to earn more money in my next album. But if this album sucks…I don't even want to think about getting dropped by the record company. Right now, the money they're giving me for my contract is enough to get Prim into a good school, and _stay _there for at least the end of this year. I have to work my best so that the company will want me to tour or make another album. I can't go back to living on the streets again. I can't do that to Prim.

Then _his _face appears in a memory again.

_It was just another shitty day. Unsurprisingly, everyone was walking past me without a second glance. Maybe a few little kids smiled and pointed at me, but it's not like they had any money—let alone some to spare. _

_I was just about to pack up and leave, return home—or as close to home as we could get—to Prim and give her another talk about how times were hard. I didn't want to do that, I'd stay here for the rest of today if I could, but I didn't feel comfortable leaving Prim alone. And I wouldn't let her come with me either, I didn't want her to see how pathetic it was for her older sister to be at the corner of the street, nearly begging for some money. _

_I decided to finish this one song—this one song that my dad used to sing with me. It was painful to sing the empty parts by myself. The song didn't sound even a quarter as good as it used to with him. But I needed to sing it, just to remind myself of him and of my mother too. This was her favorite song. To bring back a piece of him, and breathe some life into me._

_I closed my eyes for a single moment. Wishing for things to get better, hoping that I could give Prim everything she deserved. When I opened my eyes, I looked inside Prim's childhood hat and there was a fifty-dollar note inside. I was shocked. I looked up to find myself gazing deep into an endless, ocean blue. His eyes, they drowned me. Then it hit me: _he gave me a fifty-dollar note.

_I hate owing people. And for this stranger to give me such a large amount of money, I knew I was already in debt. But then he just walked away. I made a promise to myself that if I ever saw him again, I'd pay him back and say thank you because those words didn't manage to escape my lips at the time. _

"What's that face for, sweetheart?" Haymitch caught me. After firing Cato, the rest of the day resumed with me doing random errands around the studio. Picking out certain samples, planning advertising, choosing charity concerts to sing at. Same old, same old. I realize that I hadn't seen Haymitch around the studio much.

It's a little strange because I know that Effie is my publicist…even though she doesn't exactly act like it and can act like my boss twenty-four seven, but Haymitch… I actually don't know what his actual job is. If I had to guess, I'd say that he helps out with producing my music and such. Well, I'd choose him and whatever he does over Effie any day, no matter how important she is. But I _will_ admit that she's efficient and gets the jobs done.

"Oh. I know that face. That's you're thinking slash scowling face." He squints his eyes at me and rubs his chin in deep thought, trying to figure me out. I just glare at him and then give him a scowl.

"You're worried about the songwriter aren't you?" He gives me a soft smile. He just knows me way too well. Maybe it's because we're too alike. "Why are you worried about such a small thing?" He guffaws, "You even get to choose the person."

"I _know _that." I hiss in response.

"Ah, I get it. I agree with you, sweetheart." He nods with his eyes closed and a closed stance. I look at him with a perplexed expression. Is it possible that he's slightly drunk?

"What?" I ask him.

"You're thinking about time. I agree with you, it's a little troublesome to get a new songwriter with only a few months left till the release date. I'm not quite sure what's going on in Effie's head." We both start laughing at that one. I think we're the only two people in the studio who actually say what we think about Effie aloud. Everyone else—including many _grown _men—are scared out of their wits of her, even though not all of them will admit it.

"I think my head is perfectly capable don't you think?" A voice booms behind us. We turn around to find a _very _peeved Effie Trinket. We're in deep crap now.

"Of course, Effie, we think you're perfectly fine." Haymitch says without any conviction. He laughs a little awkwardly and rubs the back of his head.

"_Haymitch._" She says with as much frost as an arctic glacier,_ "_I expect this from _her,_" she takes a moment to point at me without even bothering to give it a second thought, "but not from you! You're a grown adult, not some irresponsible teenager. You shouldn't be rousing such despicable behavior from her!"

Haymitch rolls his eyes and gives me a look that says _kill me now._ I completely avoid the whole thing as he walks away, again, saving me from Effie's destruction _again. _I think he's aiming for another free bottle of wine.

"And _you._" Effie turns around to glare at me._ "_Don't think you can get away with this either. You shouldn't be complaining about such mundane things, you get to choose which songwriter you want, right? That's a privilege." I nod in return, trying to get this lecture over and done with. "Cinna needs you in five minutes. I suggest you get there early." Effie tells me with composed rage.

Wow, that was a quick one. I walk towards the dressing room…or the 'Launch Room' as Effie likes to call it. She thinks that after I come out from there, I look like a butterfly. In my opinion, I call it the 'Stockyard'—because that's where I get make up piled onto me and dresses pulled over my head.

I tuck my fingers into the pocket of my jeans and walk pass the tons of people who work with me. Some bother to give me a quick wave and smile before getting back to work. I wave back.

"Katniss!" Now, that voice can only belong to one person. I whip my head around to see Cinna coming towards me looking as good as ever. He gives me a warm smile, which I find myself returning. "Hello there." He grins at me. Then he gives me a look over, looking at my shirt and jeans.

"I'll admit, Katniss, you're looking better and better each time I see you." I give a teasing curtsy and thank him. "I try."

He laughs heartily before ushering me into the Stockyard. Well, I guess I can't really call it the 'Stockyard' anymore, Cinna makes things bearable. He knows how much I hate getting dressed up anyway.

"For tonight's interview, I was thinking of dressing you up in a nice dress. But don't worry, I'm thinking of a mix between casual and fancy." He informs me. Oh god, I totally forgot about tonight's interview.

Effie landed this huge interview with Caeser Flickerman, this big-time host on TV. Pretty much everyone in this city (and probably beyond) watch his show every time it's on. There's just something about him that makes you want to listen to his interviews and watch his show. Even I admit that it's pretty entertaining. I think Effie mentioned something about me singing live on the show as well, to boost my publicity as much as I can.

I hate interviews. People just can't seem to like me for who I am, and Haymitch oh-so endearingly tells me that I have as much charm as a dead slug. I won't say otherwise, I've watched my interviews, they don't go as well as I'd like to imagine.

"We're here!" A voice booms. Oh yay, it's the prep team. Look, I said that Cinna made it _bearable_, these guys, however, make things worse. They do their best to make me pretty, and that's all I can ask from them, but they aren't the brightest people around. I think that they come from the same otherworldly place that Effie does. Who else thinks that pearls become diamonds?

"Okay, let's get started then."

Cinna pulls out a hanger with a zipped-up coat _over _the actual dress itself, to shield it from any harm apparently. Once Cinna unzips the coat, I get a glimpse of the dress inside. By now, you'd think that I wouldn't be so surprised about how amazing Cinna's designs are. But I swear, _every. single. time _Cinna pulls out a dress from those coats, they take my breath away.

The dress he pulls out is a fiery red supernova. Jewels align the dress in a way that makes it look like flames. He moves it a little and the lights make it gleam with radiance and my breath hitches in my throat.

"I'm wearing _that_?" I ask in awe. Cinna chuckles and nods his head.

"I'm glad you like it. I just wanted to make sure that you're cool with the dress choice."

"Cinna, any dress you choose or make, I'll wear." I tell him honestly. Hey, everyone deserves a compliment once in a while. He gives me a sweet smile.

"Katniss!" A shrill scream awakes me from my admiration. I groan again. _Effie, seriously? You again? _Beside me I hear Cinna laughing under his breath.

"What? But we have to do Katniss' make up for the interview. We'll need _at least _three hours with her." Venia points out to Cinna. He places a finger on his lips and gives her a small nod.

"The slave-driver calls." I mutter under my breath, which sends the prep team into muffled hysterics. I walk out the door to see Effie looking for me.

"What?" I ask her in a low voice. She gives me an icy look that I return.

"Apparently you know this young man?" She asks me with full suspicion. Young man? What young man?

"Hey, Catnip." I quickly move to look behind Effie to find my best friend in the entire world.

"Gale!"

PEETA

The drive was long…and a little not worth it. But that thought only came when my energy drinks started to wear off and my mind wandered to my crazy mother. When that happened, I just cracked open another can of _Tantrum _with one hand (a party trick that my older brother taught me) and thought about my family—minus my mom. They were the reason why I was taking this big-ass, long drive back to my hometown anyway. Heck, I was passing through another state for them. The drive was nearly two days long and I suppose that I could've taken a plane, but there was something about road trips that always reeled me in. I think it was the time that I got alone, the solitary part about driving all the way there and back and saying that I survived it.

'_But I would walk five hundred miles,  
And I would walk five hundred more.' _

The radio jams. I give a sly grin before belting out the lyrics.

It takes the rest of the night, but I finally arrive at the second place that I call _home. _The bakery looks fresh and new, not at all weathered like I expected it to be. Well, dad did say that they were planning on renovations; I guess they did it earlier than I thought they would.

I pull out my phone from my back pocket and get out of the car, pulling my backpack on my shoulder. I stretch out for maybe five minutes and take a huge breath. I lock my car before jogging up to the front steps of the bakery with so much excitement pent up in my chest. I glance at the closed sign and think about all the times that dad told me to flip it to open.

I turn on my phone and call my oldest brother's number.

_Ring, ring. _

"Peeta?" Bannock's deep voice greets me. The familiarity of it almost makes me fall over.

"Hey, man. Guess who's outside the door?" I ask with mischief.

"_No_ _way_! You little ass!" I hear fumbling inside the bakery, some things crashing to the ground and I chuckle at Bannock's clumsiness.

The door swings open and the bell rings loudly. I give my best, winning smile and shut my phone off.

"Peeta!" Bannock chucks his phone on the desk right near the front door carelessly. He opens his arms wide and grabs me in a death hug and I return it. We laugh and smile and punch each other. Obviously he's got the upper hand being so much bigger than me. "Come inside, come inside!" Bannock nearly shoves me through the door in his excitement.

Despite what people think, I'm probably closer to Bannock than my other brother, Rye. Bannock and I were always close and always looking out for each other, we had each other's backs. But Rye, he was the womanizer in town, and spent more time with his lady friends than his brothers. That's okay though, we all still got along fine.

"You ass! Why didn't you tell us you were coming?" He asks me with a chuckle, arm around my shoulder, shaking me to near death.

"It was a surprise!" I laugh at his mock hurt expression. Then he grins at me and pulls me towards the back of the bakery.

Our family bakery was also a house. The front part of it was the place that everyone saw, the _bakery _part. But behind the counter, there's a door leading into a kitchen (that also connects to the front part of the shop) and then the dining area. In that room, there are stairs leading to all our rooms. It's snug, kinda small, but it's one of the best places to be sometimes.

"Hey, Da-ad!" Bannock sings cheerfully as we squeeze through the kitchen.

"Yeah?" Dad calls from the dining area. Oh god, I missed home so much. The smell of cookies and cake lingers in the kitchen, and the tinted orange glow of the lights fill the place with warmth, the voices of my family ringing through the bakery and the sound of our footsteps echo on the polished wooden floor. This _is_ my childhood.

"Guess who came to visit?" Bannock asks with the same mischief I did with him. Then he looks me in the eyes with a secretive look. What can I say? Mellark boys are one of the same.

We walk through the kitchen and I see dad sitting at the dining table with a newspaper in hand.

"Peeta?" Dad asks when he looks up. Then his face lights up with recognition and enthusiasm. "Peet! My son!" He stumbles over himself to give me a massive hug. I laugh.

"Oh wow. We have so much to talk about!" Dad exclaims before looking at Bannock, who nods heartily. We all gather around the dining table, slide the pine chairs out and fling ourselves into the seats. Bannock opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by a voice that I find myself nearly despising.

"Honey, who's downstairs?" A voice calls from upstairs. Bannock and I share a look. Mother always acts like this with our dad. With us, she's the devil, but dad will never know that. I don't think Bannock, Rye or I have it in us to 'dob' on our mother like children.

"It's Peeta!" Dad shouts with a great grin. There's no response, only silence. That's always a bad sign. I can imagine her pursing her lips in suppressed anger.

I hear footsteps coming down the stairs in a menacing fashion. There's only one woman I know that can turn even walking down stairs into something that you should be afraid of.

"Oh, that's such good news." There's a little too much honey in her voice for it to be real. When she appears at the foot of the steps, downing a robe and hair-curlers in her graying hair, she opens her arms to me and I have no choice but to get up and be a good son. She unenthusiastically wraps her arms around me. I've always been her least favorite son. I'd almost go as far as to say that she hated me. I'll always be 'the one who didn't help out with the bakery and foolishly chased an unreachable dream', follow that with her signature scoff and you've got a great impersonation of my mom.

"How've you been?" She asks, almost fooling me into believing that she cared. Then she adds a low and sneering, "Still trying to become a famous songwriter?"

"Yes I am, mother." I respond quickly. We fall into step, walking over to sit at the table as a _family_.

"And how's that going for you?" She asks icily.

"Well, I'm applying for a job next week."

"Oh. Still no job yet?" She asks in a haughty fashion. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I grit my teeth instead. "Rye's gotten a job at the market, it helps with the bakery's business." She gives me a suggestive glare.

Eager to change the subject, I speak to dad and Bannock, "Where is Rye, anyway? I was hoping to catch him before I left."

"I was wondering the same thing." Frowns dad. As we all turned into young adults, our curfews and restrictions became a lot more lenient…on my dad's part anyway. Mother just wanted to work us to death.

"He's out." Bannock covers for him. That's what we do for each other, this is the way it's always been. Even when mom…even when she beat us, we'd willingly take the hit for each other. That made things slightly bearable, it was the fact that we cared so much for one another.

_At a party_, Bannock mouths at me with a slight eye roll that just screams 'of course he is'. I chuckle lowly and shake my head. How typical.

"So about this job application, Peeta, who're you working for?" Dad asks. He seems genuinely interested, and I thank the high heavens that they gave us at least one parent who only wanted the best for us.

"Um…" I try to form my words, something that doesn't involve '_gorgeous, beautiful, amazing and talented'. _"She's a new up and coming star for this major record company. Because she's so new, I have a better chance at becoming her songwriter." I inform him. He nods with a smile.

"Whatever makes you happy, Peet."

**How do you guys feel about Gale's entrance? Any thoughts so far? Oh, the song I used in Peeta's road trip was '**_**500 Miles' **_**by The Proclaimers. The road trip part was majorly inspired from an episode of 'How I Met Your Mother'. Any of you guys seen it? If you have, a big shoutout to you guys :3 TANTRUM! Okay, that's all from me :) For now…give it a chance for things to start kicking in. I wrote this ages ago, I'm still trying to make it better. **


End file.
